Mona smiled and Rolf kissed her on the cheek. Then he took a deep breath and said, “I think we must begin. Elspeth, you go with Erit to the message-taker’s house and follow him to the Faction house. I assume you can use your powers to reach me?”
I nodded and bent down to remove my heavy shoes before stepping into Carryn’s slippers. They were a little tight but very soft and well made. I bade Mona farewell then, knowing I would not see her again before I left the city, and donned my mask and cloak. Erit put on his, too, and we left the house together. The shutters on the windows had kept the sunlight out, and I blinked at the day’s brightness.
The streets were already busy with servants and tradefolk bustling about, and all wore masks, though none so fine as the ones Erit and I had. It did not take us long to reach the message-taker’s house with its winged shoe suspended above the door. I hung back in a shadowy doorway, pretending to empty a stone from a slipper, as Erit hammered at the front door and explained to the red-cheeked man who opened it that he had an urgent message for some Hedra. I had already probed the man, so I heard his thought that he would refuse the missives, because his head ached from the ale he had drunk the previous night, and anyway he did not like the Hedra.
Controlling a surge of annoyance, I forced him to accept the messages, and then I constructed a little web of fear, replacing Erit’s image with Ariel’s and dredging his memory until I had enough to construct a false memory of a meeting at the waterfront during which Ariel had given him the missives he would deliver to the Hedra. It was not a deeply bedded or particularly well-constructed memory, but it would serve when he was questioned, since I could not manipulate his answers to the Hedra’s questions once he entered the house. I coerced him to deliver his message promptly, and it was not long after he closed the door on Erit that he came bursting out of it, still buttoning his vest. Erit had already left me, saying he would follow the message-taker across the roofs. He almost fell off the drainpipe he was climbing when he heard my voice in his head.
“How did you think I would communicate with you?” I asked.
“I did not think of it,” Erit admitted sheepishly. “I thought you would just make me know what I was supposed to know.”
I told him that was coercion rather than farseeking, and Misfits did not coerce friends without their permission.
“I thought the message-taker was going to refuse the hire at first,” Erit reflected as he watched the man from the rooftops.
“He was,” I said. “I changed his mind for him.”
I lost sight of the message-taker when he entered the street where the Faction house stood, for I had to backtrack to the little lane that was to be my vantage point. By the time I was in place, the message-taker was straightening his small half mask and knocking at the door. The door opened, and fleetingly, I saw in his mind an echo of the cold, stern face of the warrior priest who opened it. The Hedra demanded the message-taker’s documents and studied them, then gestured for the missives. He broke the seal on one without looking closely at it, read it, and asked the message-taker to describe the man who had paid him. His mind dredged up the memory I had built, and he gave an unmistakable description of Ariel. The message-taker was discomfited by the interrogation and the Hedra’s badgering manner, so I loosened my control and let him speak naturally. “Is something amiss, sirrah?”
The Hedra frowned. “This missive asks that one of the Herders staying here meets with the man who hired you, yet that same man bade me strictly to keep the Herder here until this evening, and as I understood it, he meant to travel on with the Raider.”
“Perhaps the Raider will collect the blond man after performing some other errand up the coast,” I made the message-taker say. “In any case, I have fulfilled my duty.” He gave the bow of his calling and withdrew, and for a moment I had a clear view of the Hedra watching him march away, a preoccupied expression on his hard features. He closed the door, and there was nothing to do but wait.
I sent a probe after the message-taker, erasing his memory and grafting in its place another memory of having delivered a message nearby some days earlier. This done, I farsent Rolf to tell him what had happened. Mindful of the fright I had given Erit, I was careful to announce my presence. But Rolf welcomed me with an openness that startled me. I had just begun to describe the exchange between the message-taker and the Hedra when Erit gave a thin whistle from above. I looked up to see him pointing frantically in the direction of the Faction house where five Hedra had emerged with a hooded figure.
Certain it was Domick, I stretched out my mind to him, but as I had feared, he wore a demon band.
“Follow them!” Erit hissed, and I looked up to see him leap like a cat from one roof to another.
I set off back along the lane at a run, at the same time warning Iriny and Rolf that there were five Hedra, not two, and that Domick was demon-banded, which meant I could not coerce him. Fortunately, Rolf had had the foresight to give me a small bottle of sleep potion and a pad of cloth, though he had stressed that, if possible, it would be better to get him out of the market area on his own two feet. If it proved impossible, I was to summon Iriny to help carry him.
Rolf asked me to name the street I was on so that he could figure out which way we would enter the sea market. “That narrows it to two routes,” the metalworker said after I told him I was on the Street of the Dancer. “How does your friend look?”
“He seems to be walking slowly, but he is hooded, so I cannot see his expression. He is not masked, though, and neither are the Hedra.”
“None of the Faction mask themselves,” Rolf explained.
The streets were busier now, and I guessed they would become busier still with each hour that passed. Even so, I stayed well back, for I did not want the Hedra to mark me. At one point, I lost sight of them when a small crowd of people spilled out of a door into my path, laughing and singing and reeling against one another. They were all masked and clearly had not yet finished celebrating the night before the fair. One of the men leered at me and caught me by the arm, but one of the women spat a curse at him, and he released me as if I had turned into hot embers.
I hurried on, probing Erit to find out where the Hedra had gone. In a few minutes, I had them in sight again, and Erit told me to let Rolf know they had taken the longer route. I obeyed.
Rolf told me to inform him when the Hedra had moved from the Street of the Fishmaid to the sea market. He also suggested I move closer to the group there, because a great throng of people would prevent the priests from noticing me and also keep them from moving too quickly. I needed to be ready to catch hold of Domick the moment Rolf created a diversion. I was to bring Domick to the Lane of the Weaver, next along from the Street of the Fishmaid, where Rolf would wait with Golfur.
I wanted to ask what the diversion would be, but a group of men arguing heatedly blocked my way, and I needed to concentrate to coerce my way through them. By the time I had done so, I had lost sight of the Hedra again. Once more, Erit directed me to them, just as the hooded figure stumbled and fell to his knees. The Hedra stopped and hauled Domick to his feet, and I felt a stab of pity for the coercer, who had suffered so much abuse. If only I could safely remove him from Halfmoon Bay. Then I was struck by the sad and dreadful irony of applying the word safe in any form to Domick, for there was no refuge or rescue or escape from the plague seeds multiplying in his blood. All the horror and danger the world had to offer had been planted inside him with only the leanest of hopes that Jak would know how to cure the plague, or at least slow its progress.
When I saw that we had reached the Street of the Fishmaid, I farsent Rolf, who asked me to warn Iriny. I found her pretending to consider the purchase of a knife from a trader and told her that Domick and the Hedra were just now entering the market.
My probe dislodged when Erit suddenly leapt down beside me, his eyes glittering through the slits of his mask. “Quick,” he said. “We need to get close to the Hedra before Rolf gives the signal.”
“W
hat signal?” I asked, but Erit was already sprinting away. I raced after him, wishing I had asked Rolf more about the diversion.
The market looked almost exactly as it had the previous day, save that it was slightly more crowded and everybody but the small children wore a mask. For a moment, I could do nothing but stare until I remembered myself and began to edge and coerce my way through the masked revelers.
As the Hedra pushed more deeply into the crowd, they were forced to slow down, and soon I was near enough to hear them barking brusque instructions for people to move aside. Those in the crowd were trying to obey, but those behind were pressing forward to see what was happening.
“Any second,” Erit hissed into my ear. “Get right up behind the Hedra now. The Lane of the Weaver is behind those two stalls.” He pointed discreetly back the way we had come.
Too anxious to speak, I nodded and coerced two bird-masked men to draw apart so I could slip between them. I was close enough to Domick that I could have reached between the Hedra to touch him, when suddenly I heard a piercing whistle. Instantly, there was pandemonium. At first I thought the crowd had turned on the Hedra, but then I realized the commotion arose from some market stalls right next to us. It was hard to tell, for it seemed that a fight had broken out between two stallholders, but then one of Erit’s urchin friends darted by with a big man pursuing him, screaming with rage.
Then it dawned on me that the hullabaloo was Rolf’s doing. I remembered the bannock seller saying how much Rolf had done for other stallholders, and if I was right, the whistle must have been his signal. I could not imagine how so many people had agreed to help him in the short time since Erit and I had left his house. But as a diversion, the ruckus was impressive and very clever, for it would appear to have nothing to do with the Hedra.
Erit suddenly darted past me and gave the Hedra directly in front of me a hard blow before diving through the legs of the masses of people. The warrior priest snarled a curse and surged after him. He had drawn his metal-shod staff, and now he began to strike at people indiscriminately, driving them back. There was now no one between Domick and me but the remaining Hedra holding fast to his arm.
“Be ready,” Iriny said, slipping past me. I did not see what she did to the Hedra, but he fell like a stone. I darted in and caught Domick’s arm in the same place the Hedra had held him and drew him gently backward. To my intense relief, he came obediently, seemingly unaware that his keeper had changed.
Heart hammering, I managed to steer him toward the two stalls Erit had indicated, but to my dismay, three soldierguards stood at the end of the Lane of the Weaver, clearly trying to see what was going on. Not daring to show any hesitation that might awaken Domick to the fact that something had changed, I led him to the next street. It was the Lane of the Ropeman, and I farsought Rolf immediately. He bade me go along it to the nearest crossing road and turn left. He would meet me there as soon as he could. The quiet of the lane seemed to reach Domick, and he lifted his head.
He looked exactly as he had in Rolf’s memory, his expression fixed in a rigid mask of horror, save that his deadly pallor was now accentuated by eyes bright with fever surrounded by bruise-dark circles. Something stirred in his expression, a muddy confusion. Was it the mask? I wondered, trying to decide if I ought to remove it and show myself to him.
“Where is … my master?” he mumbled.
Sickened by the knowledge that he could only mean Ariel, I said quickly, “He waits to speak with you.”
“They … they said so. But he said I would not see him again.…”
“There has been a change of plans,” I said with sudden inspiration. Clearly, I had hit the right note, for suddenly the muddiness gave way to a feverish excitement.
“Where is my master?” Domick demanded. His voice was louder now, and I realized that it was not Domick’s voice I heard, yet the voice seemed strangely familiar.
“I will take you to him. Come,” I said, drawing him along the lane. We had not gone more than a few steps before Domick wrenched himself out of my grasp.
I turned to face him. “What is the matter? We must hurry.”
“I know you!” Domick cried, and he reached out and snatched the mask from my face. His face contorted in horror. “Elspeth Gordie! The beloved.”
Confounded by his words, I stared at Domick. He was not the broken null I had expected, but he was not himself either. He had recognized my voice and my face, but why did he look at me with such violent revulsion? All expression in his face died, and he reached out to me. For one bewildered moment, I thought he meant to embrace me, but then he closed his hot hands about my neck. He was thin and gaunt and ill, but there was a sinewy strength left in him that crushed my throat. He brought his face close to mine, his breath foul, and I felt the heat of his fever like a blast from a fire pit.
“You will not interfere with my master’s plans,” he said. Grief and rage and terror shuddered over his features in maniacal progression, and then the blankness returned and he squeezed. “I am the instrument of my master!” he bellowed in my face, and even while I fought to tear his fingers from my neck, I was afraid of the noise he was making. I struggled hard, trying to claw Domick’s hands to loosen their deadly grip, but they were slick with sweat, and I could not get any purchase. Shadows began to flutter at the edge of my vision.
Desperate, I struck out at Domick’s face. He flinched instinctively, letting go of me with one hand. I caught the flying hand and clung to it, though the fingers of his other hand still dug into my throat.
“We were friends, Domick!” I rasped, now that I could get a bit of breath.
Domick flinched. Then he snarled, “Shut up! I am not Domick. Domick is dead. I am … I am Mika,” Domick said, his fingers slackening slightly.
I stared at him in disbelief. I had been with Domick once when he had taken on his spy persona of Mika, and it had chilled me to see how much he became that cold arrogant man. Obviously, whatever Ariel had done to Domick had destroyed his mind so only this invented self remained. That was why I had recognized the voice and manner.
Suddenly, Domick’s face blazed with anguish, and he threw me away from him so violently that I fell to my knees. By the time I had scrambled to my feet, he was running awkwardly along the lane away from the square. He had almost reached the crossroad when a man stepped out leading the biggest horse I had ever seen. He wore a simple mask of black inlaid with metal, but his powerful shoulders and wooden leg told me it was Rolf.
I could not cry out to him, so I beastspoke the startled horse. “I am ElspethInnle! Do not let the running funaga through!”
Domick seemed not even to see the enormous beast who lowered its great shaggy head and butted him backward into a door. His head struck it with a sickening crunch, and he crumpled unconscious at its base.
As I reached him, a woman opened the door and gaped down. Before she could scream, I coerced her ruthlessly and sent her back inside. Rolf knelt by me and bade me give him the sleep potion. He dribbled a few drops onto the pad and held it over the coercer’s mouth. Rolf then fetched a length of canvas from Golfur’s back and, unfurling it, rolled Domick onto it. He wrapped him up in a neat parcel, open at his head so he could breathe, and between us we lifted him onto Golfur’s back. I would never have managed it without the metalworker, for the horse was even bigger than he had looked from a distance. I had thought the term greathorse was the name for a west coast breed, but now I realized it was merely a description. I dug in the saddlebags for my heavy shoes and the cap Erit had given me. There was also a simple mask to replace the distinctive cat mask. I removed the cloak. Exchanging the delicate slippers for my heavy shoes and retrieving the mask that Domick had knocked away, I wrapped them in the cloak.
In the meantime, Rolf arranged bundles and parcels on Golfur’s back until Domick’s form was all but concealed. “How is he?” the metalworker asked when he had finished.
“I don’t know if he is infectious,” I said, handing him the mask and
slippers wrapped in the cloak.
Rolf shrugged. “I suppose we will know soon enough.” He took the bundle and shot me an inquiring look. “You beastspoke Golfur to ask his aid?”
I nodded, glancing anxiously about us to make sure no one had entered the lane. Rolf shook his head in wonder, then looped his hands and bade me climb up onto the greathorse and go.
“Iriny …”
“I will make sure she is safe. You concentrate on your friend. Get him out of the city. If we live, I expect to have your story someday.”
I put one foot into his hands, and he hoisted me up into the saddle.
“Thank you,” I said with a rush of gratitude for this good man.
“Go!” Rolf said again, slapping the greathorse. The beast turned to administer a large affectionate lick before ambling off along the street. It was not a moment too soon, for even as we passed into a wider street, a troop of soldierguards came hurtling along, bristling with weapons.
TO MY RELIEF, Golfur knew the way to the nearest gate, so I had no need to remember the instructions Rolf had given that morning. I had only to sit on his back as he moved through a crowd that parted to give him room and seemed to accept his size more readily than I could. As we made our stately progress through the streets, I calmed down enough to send a probe to Erit, who immediately began to crow with delight at hearing I was leaving the city with Domick. When I expressed my concern for the trouble I had left behind, he assured me with high good humor that the fracas in the market had abated as mysteriously as it had begun, leaving puzzled revelers and some furious and dismayed Hedra who were now ranting to a troop of soldierguards about the loss of a priest they had been escorting to the piers.
Erit explained that the signal Rolf had given was actually a long-established signal to all stallholders that one of their number was under threat. They had discovered that direct intervention, especially if soldierguards or Hedra were involved, would end up in the person trying to help being imprisoned, too. It had been Rolf’s idea that if there was enough unrelated confusion, the person in difficulties would have a far better chance of slipping away. Each of the stallholders had come up with his or her own specialty when help was needed, and each could be evoked with a different signal.
The Dreamtrails: The Obernewtyn Chronicles Page 48
